The Early Bird and the Worm
by Distant Glory
Summary: Envy is Not a Morning Person. Kimblee has to put up with this. Kimvy; self-indulgent domestic AU fluff.


This has been sitting on my computer FOREVER.

Inspired by the comic created by the ever-amazing QuaterComet (the link will be up on my profile later, or you can search DeviantArt with this title to find it).

Warning for one curse-word and mild sexual implications?

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing, which is probably for the best.

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 **The Early Bird and the Worm**

Solf J. Kimblee wakes up cold, and knows without opening his eyes that his partner has stolen all of the blankets. Again.

He rubs with eyes with one hand, trying to gauge the time. He wakes up like this reasonably often, enough that he has three basic methods of dealing with the situation. One: he can go back to sleep without attempting to get back his fair share of the covers. Two: he can regain the blankets and _then_ go back to sleep. Three: he can abandon the idea of further rest, and begin his day.

An impeccable internal clock tells him that there are fifteen minutes until his alarm goes off—opening his eyes and propping himself up on one elbow to get a look at the clock confirms it. Not enough time to take a catnap, let alone initiate the long and frustrating task of getting the covers back.

Kimblee stretches, then prods the rolled-up cocoon of blankets lying by his side. The only visible part of his partner is their hair—long, dark spikes emerging from the top of the cocoon like the fronds of a palm tree. An unintelligible sound emerges, muffled by the covers—a combination of gurgle, growl, and groan.

Familiar with the language that Envy speaks this early in the morning, Kimblee translates this as, "Go away!"

Some censoring is involved.

"Don't you have work this morning?" asks Kimblee, pushing himself into a sitting position.

Another muffled sound. Envy curls in on themself.

Kimblee translates this as, "Don't care."

Clearly, they're going to be doing this the hard way. Again.

Raising one foot, Kimblee shoves. Envy tumbles off the bed with a dull thump. The sound that emerges this time is definitely edging towards a pure growl. Kimblee ignores it as he reaches over to turn off the alarm, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of the place where Envy has been lying. If he didn't have so much to do—and if Envy wouldn't object violently to their partner kicking him out of bed and then sleeping in their place—then it might have been tempting to simply drift back into slumber. But he does, and they would, and they really can't afford to damage the apartment any further. The chances of getting the security deposit back are already slim to none.

So Kimblee gets up, stretches, and then pads over to the other side of the bed. This is not one of the mornings when impact alone makes Envy claw their way out of their cosy cocoon—if anything, they seem to have withdrawn further into the blankets.

With a faint sigh, Kimblee seizes a handful of blankets and begins to drag. The sound that emerges this time is more like a whine than a growl. Kimblee can feel Envy clutching tightly to their cocoon, trying to keep in place as they are dragged towards the kitchen, and shakes his head. It would be far less effort to surrender and actually get up, but Envy is incredibly stubborn and not entirely logical when sleepy.

For that matter, they're incredibly stubborn and not entirely logical when fully awake...

When he reaches the kitchen, Kimblee measures the blanket bundle with his eyes. It curls in on itself, as though feeling his gaze and resenting his intention. It probably is. Hooking a chair away from the table with one foot, Kimblee crouches and lifts.

Exercise is an excellent way to get the brain moving in the morning; and Envy, being almost solid muscle despite their slender frame, tests Kimblee's strength.

And arranging them into a sitting position, still cocooned in blankets, is a test of patience and flexibility. Especially since Envy, resenting this part of the morning, has a tendency to squirm.

"I hope you know how lucky you are," Kimblee says, when he manages to achieve equilibrium and Envy ceases to struggle. "I wouldn't tolerate this from anyone else."

Envy, their face still hidden by blanket folds, grunts in an entirely ungrateful manner.

Kimblee shakes his head at his own folly as he goes to prepare breakfast. He really should know better by now than to try to impress gratitude on Envy. Certain isolated events do not a grateful person make.

There have been mornings when Kimblee has played a waiting game with Envy, seeing how long it will take his partner to unfold themself from the cocoon without extra stimuli. Once or twice, Envy has fallen asleep in his sitting position, slumping forward to rest his head on the table. Other times, depending on how awake they already are, Envy has clawed his way out between fifteen and forty-five minutes in search of the one thing that makes his mornings bearable.

Since Kimblee does have to arrive at work on time today, he forgoes the waiting game and just puts the coffee machine on. Envy does not visibly react to the sound.

He dresses while he waits for the coffee to brew, bringing jacket and tie out to the mirror in the hallway. His mind may be awake, but he doesn't quite trust his fingers yet. When he re-enters the kitchen, having retrieved the morning paper from the doorstep, the coffee is brewed and Envy's head is partway out of his blanket cocoon.

Long experience makes Kimblee careful as he sets the second mug in front of his partner. The key is to withdraw his hand as soon as physically possible. Sure enough, as soon as the cup clinks onto the tabletop, a pale hand shoots out of the blankets and yanks it away. Kimblee's hand is still close enough to feel the heated ceramic brushing his fingers. They tingle in memory of the burns he has sustained in the past, not moving quickly enough to get away before Envy pounces.

The difficult part is done now. Kimblee relaxes, making himself comfortable to absorb both his breakfast and the morning paper. There are several fascinating conflicts taking place across the world at the moment-Drachma is trying to flex its muscles against Amestris, and each member of the international community has something to say about it. And of course, there are also the comments from their outspoken Minister of Defence that always start another political infight…

He is only vaguely aware of the sounds of coffee being inhaled across from him.

There is, however, no way that he could miss the hot stare boring into him. Kimblee smiles as he turns the page. Envy's early morning death stare always gives him a pleasant tingle of adrenalin that clears the last of the sleep fog from his head and leaves him ready to tackle the day's challenges. He doesn't know what he'd do without it, these days.

His internal clock alerts him that he has ten minutes to make his final preparations and leave, so he folds the newspaper. The glance at his watch is a formality. There's a soft clink across from him as Envy sets their cup down.

"Fuck you," they growl, clutching their blankets up around their chin.

Kimblee gets up from the table. "Maybe later," he says.

Clapping his hat on his head, he leaves whistling.


End file.
